


Pain and Roses

by uniquelio



Series: War AU [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Armie is a soldier, Blood and Injury, Graphic Description, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Graphic Smut, Timothée is a nurse, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-01-15 15:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18501583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uniquelio/pseuds/uniquelio
Summary: Armie is a soldier, he fights for his country even if he doesn't know why he has decided to become a soldier. He has no real expectation, he doesn't want to survive his mission like his comrades. He sees blood and pain on a daily basis, he's only concern is making sure that his platoon doesn't end up dead and if, in the process of protecting them, he dies he's sure that no one will miss him.





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there lovelies! I'm back with a new fic that I haven't finished writing yet, this is just a test. If you guys happen to like this, I will keep on posting it! Any kind of feedback is welcome!  
> Lots of love, babes, I'll see you all soon!

War has never been easy nor a pleasurable topic for arguments, however Armie had got himself into a position where he couldn’t do anything but see, do and experience war related moments. It was starting to eat him alive and if he knew that he was going to be so damaged by it, he would have never signed himself into the Marines. It was a tough life that made him wonder if he was doing the right thing or not, perhaps not judging by how everything was turning out. He should have thought about that, he should have thought about the consequences. 

Now, laying on a hospital bed under a tent, Armie was questioning his own health. He had got hurt, nothing serious but a little scrape caused by a bullet, and his shoulder was dislocated because he had fallen in the wrong way. He should have know better. The doctor kept telling him to stop blaming himself for getting injured on the field, it was something that everyone, every soldier, had experienced and he couldn’t blame himself forever, he was going to drive himself crazy if he kept doing that, if he kept assuming that everything was his fault. 

Armie had been in Syria for quite a long time now, it was his second mission and in the first one he had barely seen the camp, he had barely been able to get to know his companions, too busy with being focused on his mission, on not getting killed and going back home. He had graduated and then decided that perhaps being a teacher wasn’t something that excited him; the only reasonable thing he could do was becoming a soldier. His parents had seemed happier than him, a patriotic family was never a good thing. 

His first mission had ended around Christmas time, he hadn’t gone back to Los Angeles to his parents, he had chilled in Dubai with some fruity drink and a bored expression, celebrating New Year’s Eve alone in an hotel room. He was a social person, he preferred to stay inside and relax, a good glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. War had left deep scars into him, it had changed him in many ways and he had refused to acknowledge those differences, scared that other people would be able to see them if he did. Armie was more scared of people’s judgment than his own, he knew how to take himself and how to make everyone else think that he was fine, that nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong, nothing. 

Syria had never been an easy topic to talk about at family reunions, they never asked him anything and when they called him while he was at the camp, they never really asked anything. It was funny how Armie never cared about them, his other mates all had families and loved ones back in their hometown, not Armie though; perhaps that was why he had decided to join the Marines. If he died, he wouldn’t leave anything behind but a brother who barely spoke to him, a mother who only cared about her finances and a father who was living his dream life in the Caymans. He wouldn’t leave much behind, that thought always made him face every day with less and less strength. 

Now, though, injured and on an hospital bed with an excruciating pain in his shoulder, reality made him crumble under the harsh realization that he could have died. If the bullet had been directed a little higher, he would have gotten shot in the chest. Armie didn’t want to think about it, the next day he was supposed to stay in the hospital and then, if everything went as planned, he could go back to the camp and fight. He was looking forward to that, even if injured he could still help around and join the battles. 

There were nurses at the hospital but everyone was busy taking care of more serious cases, like the boy next to him who was missing a leg due to a grenade. Armie had never liked the sight of blood, after being in Syria for over two years, though, he had learnt to keep his stomach under control and to not freak out when he saw someone missing some body parts or bleed profusely. He had learnt how to stitch a wound and how to clean it, it was the minimum he could do so that both him and the other guys around him could be safe. Armie had to stomach a lot, a lot of images that tormented him every night. He had head about post-traumatic stress disorder, he knew that he was going to get fucked once he retired. 

The following day Armie got the freedom to leave the hospital, the doctor recommended him to not put too much stress on his shoulder. His mates had fought the day before and they had lost one of them, Armie didn’t even know her name but everyone was mourning her body, a young women with dark hair and creamy skin, too young to be fighting for a crooked county like the USA. Armie said a prayer even if he didn’t believe in God, he looked at her and he knew what was about to happen. Her family was going to be informed, there was going to be a funeral and then she was going to disappear, a name into the vicious circle of death. 

Armie vomited that night, perhaps it was the thick smell of sweat mixed with blood that upset his stomach, perhaps it was the ghost of that girl, lying peacefully on a wooden bench with her eyes closed, her chest open to reveal a puddle of crimson blood that drenched her uniform; the name tag was gone. Armie spent the night awake, worrying about the future, the meaning of that war that he didn’t even know, he worried about his own future. He had nothing to lose if he died, but everyone else did, a lot of soldiers had joined that cause because they thought that fighting for their country was going to make them feel important, a silly idea that was not going to make their life any easier once they got back. 

In the morning they had the chance to rest and Armie saw how time effected everyone’s face. They looked older, frightened by their own image on the mirror, it made Armie thought about what his life truly was, what he had done to himself and why he had done that. What was the point? He didn’t even know anymore, he kept fighting because he couldn’t retire, not yet at least. He had to wait one more year, he had to go with a medal if he wanted to have a nice salary. While looking at those young guys, almost boys, he saw himself at nineteen, twenty, confused over what to choose for a career. He should have sticked to being a teacher. 

No one spoke, no one dared to complain about their wounds or their aching limbs, no one said a thing. Armie’s position was important and he was seen almost as the chief, he didn’t feel like one, he could barely keep his shit together and he couldn’t look after a platoon. When he had got injured his mates had visited him, he had dismissed them saying that he was okay and now, on a quiet and tranquil moment, no one asked him anything about his injury. Armie smiled at his hands, they were dirty and there was dirt and other things under his nails, making them look ruined. A shower sounded really nice but it was not his turn yet. 

The night rolled by too easily, Armie lay awake in his tiny cot. Faces were blurred together, names morphed into letters without a meaning behind, his own name sounded foreign and he didn’t remember the last time he had really looked at himself in the mirror. His mother had called him that day, he had dismissed her quickly, saying that he was fine and that he was really busy, he didn’t have time to chat. He did have time and he spent it listening to the new guys talk about the military hospital, the new one they had built in the nearest city. They said that it was big and the nurses were all kind and welcoming, they also managed to stitch a guy’s finger so that he was not going to lose it. 

They had been fighting for almost a year now and Armie found it almost comical, the only worry that made the whole camp petrify was the thought of losing a part of their body. Sometimes he heard them talk quietly about how it would be to live without a leg, a finger, a hand, an arm. Everyone seemed scared about it, Armie couldn’t deny that that possibility was a frightening one, but he thought that being paralyzed was even worse, that would make him lose his mind completely. In all those years spent in Syria he had never stopped, took a breath and thought about _how_ he was going to leave the camp. 

That night Armie barely slept and the following day, when they got awakened by the loud noise of an exploding bomb, he jumped to his feet and rushed out of his tent, weapons in hands and boots securely tied; everyone slept with their shoes on. Armie looked at his mates, he looked at them and saw how the youngest ones were in the front. He joined them. 

The Opposition had decided to attack them and Armie saw people fall, dead on their feet, by American bullets. War was bloody and no one was holding back, in those moments he saw how cruel men could become, he wasn’t even touched by the sight of dead bodies, of injured young men. He couldn’t stop and help them because they weren’t in _his_ team. Armie heard the faint screams and shouts around him, he heard a sharp pain in his back and then some wet heat spread through his lower back. He fell, face down on the ground, his eyes could see but a ringing noise made it impossible for him to hear what was going around. 

His legs were tingling and his hands felt on fire, his whole body was in agony and he could barely understand what a young man, blond curls and shiny eyes, kept shouting to him. He looked worried and Armie, with his muffled senses, understood that things were not good, that he was not going to be able to go back to the camp that night. He was vigil and he could tell that something had hit him in the back, he could feel his legs that was something positive, but the fact that he couldn’t pull himself up to stand was bad. 

He rasped for help and after few weak tentatives the blond soldier helped him to his feet, his mouth kept moving but Armie couldn’t hear him over the still ringing noise and all the metallic sounds around them. He stumbled, turned his head around and saw a piece of wood come out of his side, blood had drenched his uniform and he threw up right on the spot, he still could process the sight of his own injuries. He thanked the other soldier and got determined to go on, to at least finish that before allowing himself to be transported to the nearest hospital to get stitched up. 

Plans went differently though, he should have know better. 

What had hit Armie was the aftermath of a bomb, it was only logical that others were going to follow. He could barely stand, barely walk, and he had to rely on the soldier’s shoulder, leaning onto it and stumbling around, trying to run away from that hot spot. He didn’t succeed but that young boy was there to help him and the only thing he could do was to shield him, at least a tiny bit, from the flying rocks and wood. 

Armie kept his mouth shut and bit his lower lip until he tasted blood, he didn’t knew if it came from biting down on his lip or if he had blood in his mouth for other reason; he hoped for the first. He feel again, this time he crashed down on the ground harder than before and his head started to hurt, the young boys was a feet or two away from him and his blond hair were now red, he was not moving but Armie could see his chest raise up and down quickly, he could see the bone of his right knee and the ringing noise finally stopped. Screams and pained howls made his skin prickle, he only had to listen to it for few seconds though. 

It was like living an out-of-body experience. Armie felt himself being lifted off the ground, his arms felt heavy and someone forced them on the stretcher, his eyes were open but he couldn’t stop looking at the blood that had dried on his fingers, on the ground, on the spot where the young soldier had been lying. He didn’t know if he had lost consciousness and he didn’t know if his brain had removed some images to keep him sane, he didn’t know anymore. He couldn’t feel pain but everyone around him had a resigned expression. 

Give up already and let me die, he thought. He couldn’t stand pity, he couldn’t stand to see all those doctors fist their hair and furrow their brows, it was like watching a movie. He didn’t feel anything, he could see the lights of the helicopter and he could feel the soft breeze made by it hit his skin in all the right places. His ears were muffling every sound and he couldn’t make out what everyone kept saying, he felt a hand hold his own. He had cried out in pain apparently, someone had touched his back and he had seen flashes of light blind him. 

The last thing Armie remembered were the bright light of a corridor, he had been sedated during the quick trip to the hospital and they had removed a lot of things that had been stuck into his back. He hadn’t felt anything, he didn’t know if he was supposed to be happy or worried about it. The last thing Armie thought about was that young soldier, he wondered if he was alive. 

 


	2. Chaptr Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!   
> Yes, I know, I disappeared for a long, long time but my mental health has dropped so low that... I wasn't in a really good place for a long ass time, I still am trying to recovery and get back in touch with everything I loved doing, like writing fanfics and doing cmbyn roleplays, yup.   
> Anyway, I completed this fic and here's the second chapter! I'm writing a new one right now, hopefully I'll be able to share it with you all pretty soon!

Morphine was useful to keep patients quiet and calm. Armie had been in the “new” hospital for over a week and for the first seven days he had been sleeping, an induced coma that the doctor defined necessary for his recovery, Armie was positive that he was going to lose his mind there. The room where he was placed had a large window, he was the only one there but he knew that the two empty beds were soon going to be filled with people. He wasn’t looking forward to that. 

When he woke up, the first thing Armie saw was the kind and good looking face of a nurse, curly brown hair and pale skin, his face looked angelic and he had perfect teeth, they matched his ethereal body. He thought that was a vision, something induced by all the drugs into his body, but then he kept seeing that nurse every hour and he convinced himself that he was real. He never spoke, or if he did Armie’s ears didn’t catch his voice.

Armie liked to watch him move around his room, his eyes always felt tired and he barely opened them, but he tried his best to keep them wide open when the nurse was around. He liked to watch him do his things, he liked how his long and creamy fingers moved through the pages of his records and how they gripped the frame of his bed when he checked on his vital signs. Armie wondered if he knew how gentle he looked whenever he did something, even breathing. He had never seen a gentle soul like him, he had never saw a delicate person like that nurse during war. 

His mind was always fuzzy, he felt like he had been stuffed with wool and he couldn’t move at all, sometimes he wondered if he had got paralyzed or if his mind was just playing tricks on him. He knew that whatever was going with his body, he was not going to like it at all. He wondered when he was going to be able to speak again, his mouth always felt dry and if he tried to open it pain would make him rethink about it. He was tired of feeling like he was a kid, he was tired of watching time pass by the shadows project on the ceiling of his room. 

Armie spent most of his days sleeping, too drowsy to do anything else. After awhile he had been able to open his mouth and move his hands a little, they were achy and if he moved his shoulder too much he would cry out in pain, no amount of morphine could sedate what he felt if he moved in the wrong way. Armie’s ears were still ringing and it was difficult for him to hear what the nurses or doctors said, he knew that he had gauze wrapped around his head and he was pretty sure that the cotton he had there was blocking him from hearing. 

The Gentle Nurse paid him a lot of attention during the day, he stopped by quite a lot and he checked his vital signs before standing next to him, a tiny smile on his face. Armie finally managed to get a good look at him and he wondered what an angel like him was doing in hell. The Gentle Nurse had a beautiful face, perfect bone structure and a prominent jawline, two bright eyes that were a mix of green and yellow, his thin lips that suited his whole face, his little moles that Armie wanted oh so badly to touch, his nose was something that he had never seen before. 

He talked to Armie, he touched his hands and squeezed his fingers delicately, prompting him to do the same. He kept him company for an hour or two every day, he made him feel less alone and Armie didn’t even know his name, he had a tag but his vision wasn’t that great in that moment. His doctor spoke as well but he never paid attention to him, but if the Gentle Nurse talked to him, he fixed his eyes on his lips and tried to understand what he was saying. Once, only once, he had caught him say that he was going to get better. He wondered what was going on, he didn’t know what had happened to him and he couldn’t ask the doctors because he was intubated and if he tried to speak his throat would hurt. 

Armie spent his day lying in bed and waiting, waiting for someone to tell him what the hell happened to him, how he had got in the hospital. His main concern was knowing if the other soldier had made it or not, he kept dreaming about his bone and more than once he had woken up in the middle of the night, frightened and in pain. One time he had notice the Gentle Nurse in his room, standing next to his bed with a frown; perhaps the machine attached to him had gone crazy while he was dreaming. 

Time went by too slowly and when they pulled out his tubes and unwrapped his head, Armie sighed in relief. His jaw was hurting and his throat was itchy, he didn’t trust himself to speak yet and he was sure that his voice was going to sound bad, he hadn’t used for a few days. His lips were dry and once the doctor left the room, he ran his tongue over them, noticing even more how chapped and ruined they were. That was how he spent his afternoon, wetting his lips every two minutes and trying to open and close his mouth, winching at every movement he made. The doctor had removed the gauze and cotton- apparently he was right- from his head, he could hear now, not as good as before but at least it was a starting point. 

Now, now that he could hear, Armie wanted to see the Gentle Nurse, he wanted to listen to him and finally be able to respond. He was going to try and say something, he wanted to thank him for taking such good care of him. He glanced at the window and saw that the weather was the same as always, hot and humid, he didn’t miss being out there. He turned his head to the big window that allowed him to look at the corridor, he saw other doors and he saw few other nurses, everyone seemed to move in slow-motion and Armie rested his head on the pillow, already tired. 

He fell asleep and he tried his best to ignore the sounds coming from outside his room, the doctor had left the door open and he could hear what happened around him. There was the constant buzzing noise of his machine, there were the moans coming from the nearest rooms and there was the typical sound of the hospital. He fell asleep for an hour or two, he didn’t know how much he slept but when he woke up the sun was still up, it was an improvement since he usually slept until night or until he felt those long fingers brush his face and his arms. 

Armie looked around the room and licked his lips once more, they were tingling and burning a little, he really needed to put something on them to soothe his ruined skin. He looked down at his hands, he studied them and watched how clean they were, there was no dirt under his nails and they looked less bloody than usual. He had few cuts on them and he saw that he had three stitches on his palm, he must have fallen on something when he had lost senses after the second bomb. Thinking about _that_ day was never easy and he tried his best to keep his thoughts away from it, he had blurred memories and he didn’t want to dig in and see what really happened, he was fine lying in that hospital bed. 

“Hello, today it was really sunny and I sweated so much my shirt was drenched. Okay, I’m exaggerating a little.” Armie raised his head and looked at the Gentle Nurse, his voice was just how he had imagined, soft and mellow, young and full of life. “Oh I see you don’t have your head all wrapped up, that’s good. I didn’t manage to catch your doctor before coming here, but I’m happy to see that you’re doing better.” 

Armie nodded and rested his head on the pillow, sighing and flexing his fingers before licking his lips again. 

“Are you thirsty? I’m afraid I can’t let you drink water for now.” Armie shook his head and sighed, scrunching up his nose and licking his lips once more, they were really bothering him in that moment. “Oh, I see.” 

Armie frowned and looked at the Gentle Nurse’s hands, he started to look through his pockets and he didn’t know what was going to happen, he just knew that he heard some rustling noises and then a yellowish stick appeared in the nurse’s hands. Armie looked at it and blinked, he didn’t trust his voice yet and he could already feel the awful noise he would make if he spoke. He licked his lips again and the nurse smiled, uncapping the stick and revealing what Armie believed was chapstick. He smiled tentatively and the nurse smiled back at him, he tapped gently on his lips with the chapstick and Armie sighed in relief, feeling the cool sensation of having that thick yet fresh unguent on his lips. 

“Better?” The nurse asked, a small smile on his face. Armie nodded. “There’s a button next to you, in case you need anything feel free to ring it, I’ll come here immediately.” 

Armie fidgeted with his fingers and sighed before looking up at the ceiling. He wanted to thank the nurse for looking after him but he didn’t know if that was a clever thing to do, his throat hurt a lot and he didn’t want to damage it by talking. He did what he could and took the nurse’s hand into his own, tightening his grip and patting the back of it with his index and middle finger. The Gentle Nurse smiled at him and tilted his head slightly, his curls bounced and Armie traced his soft features with his eyes, imagining how delicate his skin could be. 

“There’s no need to thank me, I’m just doing my job.” He said with a tiny laugh, wrinkling his nose up and glancing down at Armie. “I must say that you look a lot better than I expected.” Armie smiled weakly and blinked before sighing, feeling relaxed. “I’ll come back in three hours.” 

Armie’s eyes followed him until he left the room, he smiled and curled his toes before shivering slightly, he tried to shift a little under the covers but he couldn’t move too much. He rubbed his hands together and blinked, sighing and trying to tune out his own thought, luckily the nurse had closed the door. He fell asleep after toying with his fingers for few minutes, he didn’t sleep for a long time but it was enough for him to rest and relax, his body was always buzzing with pain and he didn’t know how he was going to handle it. 

In all those years he had never felt so much pain, he wanted to know what was happening to his body but no one told him anything. He had been stitched many times and he had seen a lot of wounds, he didn’t know what happened to him though, he didn’t know what was the matter with his body. Armie didn’t like being there in that bed, time never passed and he had to endure the slow process of seeing men and women walk by in the corridor, he wondered when he could start walking again. 

The Gentle Nurse came by again and Armie smiled at him, his lips didn’t hurt that much anymore and he saw the boy take out the chapstick once more, he tapped it on his mouth and grinned at him, pocketing the yellow stick and sitting down. He pulled out a small plastic bag, there was something wrapped with tinfoil and Armie frowned, his eyes locked on his thin fingers. Timothée took a sandwich out of the bag and Armie parted his lips, was Timothée visiting him during his breaks? Was he making him miss his free time? 

“I’m sorry you can’t eat on your own yet, the hospital food is not that bad here and you’d enjoy it. Doc said that they’ll stop feeding you through a tube once you get a little stabler, but you’re recovering at a fast pace even though you were in really bad conditions. They were worried you were going to lose your legs, your back was like a colander.” The nurse took a bite of his sandwich and looked at Armie, his eyes moved from his head to his chest. “I know that you must be in pain, does it hurt that bad even though you’re on morphine?” Armie shook his head and shivered slightly, he didn’t know why but he always felt cold lately. “That’s a good thing.” 

Armie watched him eat and listened to him talk, his voice was gentle and he made him float around with no worries in the world. He was happy about having that kind boy there with him, he liked to be around him and he kept him company during those lonely times. It was sad, he didn’t want to be there and he felt guilty for leaving his companions alone, they were fighting while he was just lying in a hospital bed, doing nothing but sleeping. 

“Okay, I’m done for today. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Tomorrow’s a big day, they’ll try to take out your breathing tube to see if you can do it on your own without problems.” The nurse moved closer to him and rested his hands on his arm. “It gets cold at night.” He murmured before tucking him under the thick sheet, Armie felt like a baby. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Armand.” 

Armie closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head and reminding himself to tell the nurse that his name was Armie. He closed his eyes and the Gentle Nurse caressed his shoulder for one second, promising him that he was going to see him the following day. 

 


	3. Chapter Three

There was no point in denying that recovering took time, a lot of time. Armie had never been and impatient person but being stuck in a hospital bed was starting to annoy him, he was bored and there wasn’t a lot he could do, bounded to that tiny bed. His only company was the Gentle Nurse and sometimes his doctor stayed there with him after examining him. Armie wasn’t happy to be there, he wants to know what happened to him and when he was going to be able to leave, when he could go back to his camp and fight again. He had never really cared about living or dying, being in that bed made him realize how little he cared about his life. 

The Gentle Nurse visited him three times a day, he stayed there with him and ate his lunch or dinner, sometimes he brought Armie a bottle of water with a straw. He wasn’t allowed to drink on his own yet, but the Gentle Nurse- perhaps out of pity- was trying to see if his stomach was going to mess up or not. Armie felt fine, sure he hadn’t spoken yet but he was feeling better, perhaps a little rusty here and there, but better. His back was still hurting and he was still on morphine even if the dosage was lower. From what he had heard from his doctor, he had his back seriously injured by those two bombs, his legs were lacerated in the back and his shoulder was dislocated. 

During his cold nights Armie thought about what happened. He remembered the sound of the first bomb exploding, the hot feeling of his blood running down his back and the deep pain in his left leg. He remembered the second explosion, well he only remembered its impact on him, he remembered the soldier that helped him and then the dull feeling of losing consciousness. He didn’t know what was going to happen to him, perhaps nothing judging by how detached he was from reality. Armie wasn’t sure if he was going to suffer from what happened to him, he didn’t know if he was actually going to fight again, he had a lot to think about in those long days. 

Armie had heard stories about other soldiers suffering of mental illnesses after witnessing what happened during war, he didn’t know if he was going to be like them or if faith had something else stored for him. He didn’t want to be another man in the vast sea of damaged soldiers, he saw how they lived and he saw what happened to those people, to those who tried too hard to change their path. He wasn’t going to oppose himself to his destiny, he just wanted to do what was good for him and what could make him happy. Armie dreaded the idea of going back to his soldiers, to face them and give them orders, it wasn’t right and it felt like he was sentencing them to death. 

That day Armie was in a gloomy mood, he felt like all chances had left him and he was left to a puddle of sorrow and hate. He was tired of doing nothing but lay in that bed, eyes fixed on the windows or on the ceiling, watching how life passed by and how people seemed to get better while he was still in that bed, after almost two weeks. It was embarrassing, he had never stayed in bed for more than three days when sick. He wasn’t happy to be there, he wanted to speak and tell everyone how he felt. 

“Good morning, Armand! Today the Doc said that they’ll try to make you eat pudding. I know, not a great choice but at least it’s something.” The Gentle Nurse’s voice made him smiled automatically, he had never met such a lovely person like him and he had never felt so grateful to have company in his whole life. “Well, Doc’s worried because you haven’t spoken yet. I’m not, I just think you’re shy.” Armie rolled his eyes and smiled at him, sighing before parting his lips. “I have a free day today, it means I’ll be able to stay here more.” 

Armie closed his eyes and swallowed, feeling his throat burn. He was mad at himself for not talking and he hated it, he hated how he couldn’t get over it, how he could ask for things he needed. He was a grown up man, he was supposed to talk and not to point at things like an infant. The Gentle Nurse opened his greenish bag and pulled out the usual bottle of water and his metal straw, he handed it to Armie and he took it, he tapped his fingers on the nurse’s ones and nodded. He wanted to try and say something, perhaps if he forced himself to do it, he would cross those invisible walls that were blocking him from being his old self. 

“Doc said that you requested a book yesterday, I have a huge collection of books back at my place, perhaps I could bring you a few of them. It must be boring being here.” The Nurse said, his toothy smile made Armie smile as well around the straw. He felt like a complete toddler now, he had never been more embarrassed. “Do you like novels?” Armie nodded and the boy hummed for a second. “I could bring you Tender Is The Night, would you like it?” Armie nodded again. “Perfect, I could bring you more books like that one, or different types. I have a large collection.” 

Armie smiled and rested his head on the pillows, sighing quietly before scratching his shoulder with a pained expression. The Nurse stood up and moved to his bed, he fluffed his pillow slightly and then brushed his hand down his face, trying to comfort him a little. Armie was glad to have that kind of person next to him, he didn’t even know his name but he knew how his lips curled when he smiled or frowned, his his shoulders relaxed when he talked about things he liked and Armie wondered if, once he was going to leave the hospital, he was going to see him again. Hopefully yes, in a better environment. 

“Do you like French writers?” Armie shrugged and sighed. “I interpret that as “I’ve never read something French”, correct?” Armie nodded and Timothée sat down again, scooting closer to his bed. “I’ll give you an amazing short story by Cocteau, I have a funny feeling that you’ll like it.” He brushed his hands down his chest and settled his back against the chair. “I can’t wait to hear you speak, we’d talk about so much stuff.” 

Armie knew that he meant no harm, that he wasn’t trying to force him to use his voice but he also knew that he was supposed to stop being afraid of… he didn’t know what scared him, he didn’t know why he couldn’t talk. He was starting to be afraid of the damage that bomb had done to him, he wondered if he was mentally ill and if that mutism was due to what had had happened. No one told him anything, the doctor kept saying that he was just healing and he had been in an induced coma for many days, it was okay if he didn’t feel like talking yet; plus all the tubes he had had in his trachea had left some scrapes behind. 

Armie was determined to talk by the end of the week, he was determined to use his damn voice and have long conversations with his doctor. Soon he was supposed to start walking again, he was supposed to stop taking morphine and he was also supposed to go back to the camp. Armie wanted to get better, he wanted to feel like a new man but at the same time he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to let go of those memories. 

“Armand’s such a big name, by the way.” The Nurse chuckled and sat closer to Armie, placing his hands on his injured leg. “I can’t even imagine you as a kid, saying that your name was Armand. Still a nice name, though. Your parents must have had great expectations for you.” 

Armie was tired of being called “Armand”, it was not his name and he hated whenever people called him like that, only his mother did and it always sent shivers down his spine. He sighed and tapped his fingers on his belly, feeling how concave it had gotten in those days. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers and looked at the Nurse before parting his lips, forcing himself to form coherent sounds. He had always been a talkative person, he couldn’t stop so suddenly. 

“It’s…” It came out as a whisper, a hoarse and cranky whisper that made the Nurse go pale a little bit. “Armie.” It still didn’t sound right, his voice was almost foreign for him and he wondered when he had become so self-conscious, he had never had so many problems in his whole life, not even when his mother had forced him to not come out. “Not… Armand.” Every word felt like he was being stabbed in his windpipe but he had to get over it, he had to stop fussing and being a little pussy. 

“Oh… figured.” The Nurse said, smiling and tilting his head slightly. “That’s way more fitting than Armand, you’re not an Armand person.” 

Armie smiled and then frowned. “Your… name?” He coughed and scratched at his throat, almost as if it was going to change something. 

“Timothée, but everyone calls me Tim or Timmy.” He had a special name, an unusual name for an unusual person. Armie smiled and looked at Timothée start to search through his bag, he pulled out the usual bottle of water and a straw, he gave it to Armie and placed his hands on his leg once more. “Doc will be ecstatic once he hears that you’re talking, he was scared you had selective mutism as a result of the stress and… well the pretty big injury your head faced. It’s a miracle you’re not dead, Doc always says so.” 

Armie smiled bitterly and sighed, closing his eyes for a second before feeling Timothée move next to him, he assumed he had stood up. He opened his eyes and looked back at him, watching how his thin legs carried him around the room, how he bent down to pick stuff up or how he examined everything with his eyes, checking if something was out of its place. Armie looked at him and he looked at how Timothée tiptoed around, how he smiled at him and how his hands gripped the metal headboard of the bed. 

“I’ll go now, I’ll see you this afternoon and I’ll bring you lots of books.” He fluffed his pillows and left the bottle of water on his nightstand, smiling at him. “I’ll come back soon. Bye, Armie.” 

“Bye…”

Just how he came, he left. 

Armie stretched out in his bed, drank some more water and sighed. He didn’t feel any different from before, he didn’t feel like he was going to panic anymore but he also felt a dull pain in his throat, perhaps talking hadn’t been the best idea ever. However, he had enjoyed talking to Timothée, he was even more interesting now that Armie could have a conversation with him. He closed his lips and smiled, chewing on the plastic straw while picking at his nails, finding it weird to not see them ruined or covered in dirt. 

He saw few nurses walk by his room, they were chatting with each other and Armie wished he could walk, he knew that his injuries were not “simple”, he was supposed to get his stuff done and get back on the camp, he couldn’t pull himself up though and his back was still hurting. The doctor never said a thing and Armie was becoming scared, he didn’t want to go back home and face the consequences of not being there anymore. He knew that once he left, once he went back to his normal life, he was going to face the harsh reality and his brain was going to collapse. He would search a therapist, he wasn’t looking forward to that. 

Armie’s days were always the same, he was starting to get bored and annoyed at the same time. The doctor kept his voice loud enough for him to hear but he didn’t say anything new, just that he was getting better slowly. He didn’t give him the date of his release and Armie was too shy, or just too weak, to ask for it, he could always question Timothée. The doctor announced that they were going to try and see how his back was doing the following day, they were positive that it had healed a little and that they could take the stitches out. 

Timothée came back that afternoon, he had brought him books and some food in a plastic bowl. It smelled like chicken broth and, after looking around with pursed lips, he placed it on his nightstand. It was homemade- he said, a French recipe that his dad always made when he was sick, it was like pure heaven. Armie believed him. Timothée took out a spoon from his little bag and placed it on top of the lid, telling Armie that he had talked to the doctor before sneaking that soup in, he didn’t want to get in trouble. 

“You’re going to walk soon, they’re just worried that your tendons will lacerate.” Timothée said out of the blue while stocking the book he had brought over on the nightstand. “I mean they checked it when they stitched you up, but they’re still worried because you’re a big guy and all.” He sat down again and took out a sandwich- it seemed that he really loved Turkey- and a bottle of water. “Doc said that they’ll give you a wheelchair to wander around the hospital if everything goes okay tomorrow. I hope it does, I’ll show you the garden.”  
Armie smiled, eyes closed and lips parted. He truly wanted to get better now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I'm back with another chapter and I apologize for not posting earlier but I was on a holiday to re-charge myself. My classes are almost done and next week I'll be free, thank god.   
> I hope you've enjoyed this chapter!


	4. Chapter Four

Armie’s wheelchair was comfortable, Timothée had put a pillow on the seat and Armie was trying to get his strength back while pushing himself around the room, still too weak to roll himself for those long corridors. Timothée pushed him down the corridors whenever he had free time, he talked a lot and he kept Armie company, even if he wasn’t as talkative as him. He could talk now, but apparently not as much as before. The doctor had finally spoken and told him that the concussion he had gone through had lead to a brain hemorrhage, which had damaged him slightly. Armie wasn’t even surprised to hear that, he had pondered about it and the only reasonable thing that popped in his mind had been, in fact, a cerebral hemorrhage. 

Timothée was happy to be there, he always made sure to tell him whenever he caught Armie with a sad expression, Armie appreciated him since he was his “nurse” and he had never met someone as kind as him. Timothée didn’t even have to pretend to be nice, it was his natural way to be and Armie liked it, he liked how he said things and how he read to him whenever he had a free day. He had stocked Armie’s bedside table with books and he was almost drowning in them, he couldn’t deal with all of those stories and he could read only for two or three hours a day. 

Armie’s appetite had been damaged by the concussion as well, he had slowly realized how little he ate and how food had started to bore him after three forkful. Timothée had told him that it was normal, he had been fed through IV for a long time, he wasn’t used to stomach things yet and he wasn’t supposed to force himself to eat, he was going back to “normal” eventually. Armie always nodded and said that he didn’t mind, at leas he wouldn’t get fat or out of shape while in the hospital, Timothée laughed and shook his head, telling him that he was being silly. 

They had started to become friends and Armie always liked to look at him and at his pretty face, he would get a nice glimpse of his features every morning, afternoon and evenings. Timothée sat next to him during lunchtime and dinnertime, eating with him his usual sandwiches. They loved to chat about books they were reading and Armie said that he had loved the last one Timothée had given him. It was a nice story, he said, it had opened his mind a lot about French literature and the next book he was going to read was _Maurice_ , which Timothée had warmly told him to read it.

Armie had started to read that the previous night and he had got immediately the homosexual vibe, he had got confused by it and he was nervous to confront Timothée about it. Why had him given that book? What was he trying to do? Perhaps nothing but Armie’s brain was on fire and he was now nervous to talk to him. Why had he thought that that book was okay with Armie? Was it that obvious? Armie had never been open about his sexuality, he had never tried to show off or to be that kind of homosexual boy who wore glittery clothes, not that there was nothing bad with it. 

Armie looked at the book on his bedside table, he ran his fingers over it and sighed to himself, closing his eyes and resting his head on the soft pillow. He saw Timothée’s curls through the window, bouncing on his head like they were weightless, he envied him and he envied how he could style his hair perfectly every day. Armie smiled at him once he got into his room, he raised a hand as a greeting and Timothée smiled back, his whole face lit up and he dragged the plastic chair close to the bed. He sat down and placed the tray with Armie’s food on his lap, he opened his backpack and took out the usual sandwich, this time with egg, ham and zucchini. 

“I started reading.” Armie said after adding some salt to his soup, which was 90% water and 10% chicken. “Maurice.” 

“Oh.” Timothée bit into the sandwich and smiled. “Do you like it?” Armie nodded and Timothée licked his lower lip. “I love it, you’ll end up crying at the end. I relate way too much to the story, even though I’ve never had that kind of love, you know.” 

“Yes, I get it.” Armie murmured after pulling a face at the taste of the soup. “I wonder how you knew.”  
“Knew what?” 

“That I’m gay.” Armie said while eyeing the soup. “Man, I can’t wait to start eating solid food again.” 

Timothée laughed. “I didn’t knew, I just wanted you to read the book and see if you were.” He patted his hand and tore a piece off of the bread, dumping it into Armie’s bowl. “Let it soften.”

“Why did you wanted to know?” Armie poked the bread with his spoon and sighed.

“I wanted to know to see if I had a chance.” Armie’s head shot up and he looked at Timothée. “What? You’re cute.” 

“Even if I’m bound to the bed and the wheelchair?”

“Yeah, it’s not like it’s permanent. You’ll walk again, we have to wait though.” Timothée smiled and sighed happily, stretching his back. “Doc said that you can’t fight anymore, while you were in coma some USA federal guys came here, signed down few papers and told us to tell you that you were going to retire with merit.” 

Armie sat up straighter and looked at Timothée with his lips parted. He didn’t want to go back home, he didn’t want to face all the problems that he was going to get once the war was over- at least for him. He sighed and looking at Timothée, nervous on what to say, he didn’t want to come out as ungrateful, he didn’t want to make him think that he wanted to go out there and kill more people, he had enough blood on his hands. He licked his lower lop and rubbed his eyes tiredly, he wasn’t in the mood to speak about his mind nor about his feelings, it would go away with time, that uneasy sensation that pervaded his body would disappear on its own. 

“You don’t seem excited.” Timothée pointed out after sipping from his bottle of water. “Aren’t you happy to go back to your hometown?” 

“I am, I am.” Armie sighed and kept on eating, suddenly feeling as if he was under a spotlight. “I mean I’m just worried, I don’t want to leave my guys alone.” 

“They already found someone else, they wanted to send you back to the USA but Doc said that you aren’t strong enough.” Timothée licked his lower lip and stood up, throwing the empty bottle into the trashcan. “Don’t worry too much about the others, you almost died.” 

Armie pushed the now empty tray of food away. “Is the other soldier alive? The one who was with me.” 

Timothée smiled and grabbed the tray. “He’s fine, he’s breathing on his own now which is good. He’s alive, so that’s the only thing that matter. His mother flew here and she’s looking after him. We’re trying to see if we can move him back to the USA, but we don’t know if we can… can do anything for him here.” He sighed and looked at him. “He’ll take more time to heal than you, but he’ll be fine.” 

Armie nodded and stared at Timothée. “Why did you say those things before?” Timothée frowned, fidgeting with the hem of the tray. “The taking a chance, why?” 

“We’ll talk about this later.” Timothée winked and headed out of the room, leaving Armie speechless, confused, dizzy. 

He slept until late noon, his head was pounding and it felt like it could explode, he didn’t know if he was still on morphine, perhaps yes but it couldn’t deal with all the aches he felt through his body. Armie was tired of feeling like he was poked with tiny needles whenever he moved his shoulder, he was always on the edge of feeling atrocious pain, which wasn’t pleasant. Even when he was on the wheelchair his shoulder ached, his legs were wrapped with gauze and he could see the lacerated skin, it was an unpleasant sight that always managed to make his stomach hurt. 

Armie waited for Timothée to come back, he waited for him to arrive and bring him some new things to talk about. He had soon realized that Timothée not only kept him company, he also kept him happy and with his warm personality he made him focus on all the good things in life, even if the pain was always there Armie couldn’t feel it. He was on morphine, which helped, but talking also helped and hearing stories helped. Timothée was a good nurse, no one could deny that. 

The doctor visited him, he checked him inside and out and Armie barely had the time to ask him when he was going to get rid of his wheelchair. His check ups were quicker now, the doctor limited himself to few encouraging words and then left, he wasn’t a talkative guy and Armie didn’t like him that much, he wasn’t nice but he did his job. He had been in that hospital for three weeks and he had spent half of them in a coma, he still didn’t know what he had but he knew that his legs were fucked up and that his back was like a colander. Apart from that, he knew nothing. 

Armie got into his wheelchair after the doctor left, he wanted to see if he could go a little further this time. He got out of his room, strolled down the corridor and looked at the various room, some of them were crowded and the two beds were occupied. He was alone in his room, he took that as a blessing. He headed to the less crowded side of the corridor, he saw some nurses talking and then he saw other soldiers, some of them were walking tentatively and others were in a wheelchair as well, Armie knew few of them, other platoons and other goals. Armie took himself to the quite side, he could hear the beeping noises of few machines and few people crying. 

He looked into the rooms out of curiosity, he looked at the people and he looked at the wounded soldiers, feeling pity and sorrow. He had nothing to lose there, he had nothing to do once he got back home, all those guys and girls in bed had families and significant others near their beds, they had so much more to lose than him. Armie felt guilty for being there, he shouldn’t have let that guy be his shield. He sighed and rubbed his face forcefully, his hands were tingling all over and he felt his eyes prickle, he had reached the rock bottom of that situation. Armie looked at the various room, at the nurses and the doctors talking to those families, perhaps filling them with lies just to keep them less worried. 

“There you are!” Armie turned his head back and saw Timothée walk through the entrance of the corridor. “I wasn’t looking for you but it’s always nice to see you.” He grabbed his wheelchair and pushed him further down the corridor, away from that aisle of the hospital. “You could have told me you wanted to leave your room, I could have come in earlier, now your arms are going to be tired.” 

Timothée kept on talking and Armie rested his head on his arm, he smiled at how Timothée seemed to be happy with him, he always talked and talked, he never shut up and Armie had started to like it, he had started to appreciate how Timothée filled the void in his head. He kept him company, he kept him with his feet on the ground and he managed to make his permanence in the hospital less awful and terrible. Armie was eager to ask him about what he wanted from him, what he meant by “taking a chance” with him. Was he trying to hook up with him? Was he trying to be flirty just to entertain both of them? 

“I wonder if I can take you out one day, I mean in the garden. Doc said that it’s too early but I beg to differ.” He muttered, he sounded like a spoiled child who just received a “no” from his parents. Armie had to force himself to not chuckle. “I look forward to that, I want to show you around while you’re still here. Soon you’ll go back to the USA, not too soon but soon enough.” 

“How soon?” 

“Eager to leave this hell of a place?” Timothée said with a small smile, looking down at Armie. “A month, perhaps less if you get better sooner. They’ll wait until you can walk on crutches and then they’ll fly you back to wherever you live.” 

“Los Angeles.” Armie muttered while looking at the hospital cafeteria. “Are we going to have dinner now?” 

“Fancy.” Timothée headed to the line of patients that were waiting for their food, he placed his hands on Armie’s shoulders and bent down, smiling. “We’ll try some hot tea, doc said that you can’t have chocolate yet which is awful because we have the best hot beverages here. It’s not dinner time for you yet, but you need to start eating solid food again.” 

Armie shook his head and sighed quietly, licking his lower lip and resting his head on Timothée’s wrist, eyes closed and shoulders relaxed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I finished with my classes, thank god. I'm writing again and I'm working on something pretty nice, at least in my opinion. I'll post it pretty soon and I can't wait for you all to read it.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hello, I'm back again. I'm so sorry for how I left, without uploading a fic I've finished months ago. But now I'm ready to upload again. Again, I'm truly sorry for leaving so suddenly. I hope you guys will forgive me :)

Armie’s conditions were getting better and better. One more week went down and he had started to eat solid food, the majority of it sneaked in by Timothée during mealtime. After that he had started to gain his strength back, he was able to use the wheelchair on his own and he even managed to go back to the cafeteria without feeling fatigued. He saw the garden, he saw the pretty flowers and the tall plants and trees, it looked like a little oasis and Armie stayed there whenever he wanted to read. He had finished three books, he could now read for more than three hours a day and his headaches were less painful, somedays he didn’t even have them. 

Timothée wasn’t pressuring him into walking, his legs were still wobbly and once he had almost fell down while trying to show himself that he could do it, he didn’t need the fucking wheelchair. He wasn’t attached to any IV, luckily, thus when he had tumbled down on the bed, hands gripping the chair next to it, he only felt pain in his legs for forcing them to carry a weight that they weren’t ready to support. Timothée had scolded him, as if the doctor’s words hadn’t been enough, and for the whole day he had held some hostility against him. 

Armie liked to hang out in the garden, he met some other soldiers, chatted with them and listened to their stories. He made few friends, his room started to host few people whenever he got back inside, it was like being back in camp, talking with his comrades. Timothée hang out with them, he stayed by Armie’s wheelchair and fed everyone with homemade food- sneaked in obviously-, he was adored by everyone. Armie wasn’t depending on him anymore but Timothée kept walking with him to the garden, made sure that he had someone to keep him company and then left, coming to pick him up after two hours. 

Armie passed his time in a placid place of mind, he felt calmer now that he knew that he was going back to LA, he wasn’t excited but he knew that once he was back there he could carry a safer life, perhaps picking up his old dreams and pursue them as a career. He was still scared to face the scar that war had left on him, he was sure that he had to look for a therapist if he wanted to not end up mental and dangerous for the others. Armie wondered if he could ask Timothée about a good therapist, perhaps he knew one from all the patients he had. 

“Good morning Armand!” Timothée chirped happily once he walked into the room, smiling at him and carrying his breakfast tray with him. “Wonderful flowers you have on the nightstand, have you conquest anyone?” 

Armie shook his head and grabbed his mug. “My old comrades sent them to me.” 

A week has passed but that “later” never came, Armie was still stuck in unstable waters with Timothée. He flirted, he said ambiguous things and he liked to put his hands on him, to touch his face and uninjured shoulder. In more than one occasion Armie had wanted to ask him about what they were doing, what Timothée was trying to achieve by flirting with him like that. Maybe he was like that with every patient but Armie doubted it, he wasn’t sure that Timothée liked everyone and he was more than sure that he wouldn’t fool around with him in that obvious way if he wasn’t trying  to get into his pants, not that Armie minded at all, he would be more than happy to indulge into having such a great boy all for himself. 

“They have good taste.” Timothée grinned, a toothy smile that Armie reciprocated. “So, my General, what are you going to do today? Doc said that they’ll try to see if you can stand.” Timothée took a piece of his own croissant and sat down on the chair. “I hope it’ll went well, if it does it means that you’ll go back to the USA sooner.” 

Armie nodded and sighed quietly, shaking his head with a small yawn, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Yeah, I know. I think they’re going to bring me to that white room you showed me yesterday. I’ll have to stand and do some shit, I don’t know.” The tea had burned the roof of his mouth and he stifled a whimper, he was getting less and less indulgent with pain. “Are you going to be there?”

“I don’t know, I’ll ask if I can.” 

Armie had to use the wheelchair to get to the “white room”, it was a boring place and he wasn’t even sure what he was going to do there, he would probably have to follow his doctor orders like they were a pass from the Bible. He was already of tired of trying to stand and making a fool of himself, he was barely able to keep a straight face for the majority of his staying there, he would do so much better on his own. 

He sighed and looked at his doctor, he was talking animately to the physiotherapist, a bald man with tiny hands and a muscly body. He was around forty, perhaps more, but his voice was a little high and it irritated Armie’s nerves, he didn’t like how he gripped his arms and how he seemed to push him to stand even if he _couldn’t_ , his legs were still too wobbly and whenever he tried to take a step he would feel an excruciating pain shoot through his bones. He felt like a damn rag doll, pulled here and there without being able to do a thing, not a single thing. 

Timothée wasn’t even there, he had promised him that he would bring him back to his room once he was done, but Armie doubted it, his doctor was already making plans for once he was finished with everything. He was starting to hate that hospital, it was sucking all of his life out of him, he felt always tired and he couldn’t even manage to rebel, too weak to speak up or demand to be treated differently, it was almost like a deja-vu. Armie was grateful to have such an amazing person next to him, no one could deny the fact that Timothée was a wonderful support, he was the only kind face Armie knew in that hellhole. 

His physiotherapist, Antoine, made him stand up while gripping two metal bars, he tried to make him stay up on his feet for three seconds, rest for two minutes and then repeat again. His bones were already tired and his whole body was trying to boycott his actions, making him see tiny white dots whenever he even attempted to grab those bars. He was starting to get frustrated at himself, it wasn’t a thing for him, being fragile and filled with problems, he was a soldier and he wasn’t allowed to be like that. 

Therapy lasted for an hour and in the last few minutes he even managed to take two small steps, it pleased both him and Antoine, his legs were screaming and his lungs were burning but knowing that he could get back to his old life was great, it filled him with determination. Antonie told him quickly, rushing through his words like a mad man, that if he kept progressing like that he could go back to Los Angeles in less than three weeks, he only had to be able to stand without falling in order to get back home. Suddenly the idea of leaving the hospital thrilled him with new found excitement, perhaps he just wanted to become a new man. 

Timothée was waiting outside Antoine’s room, he was smiling at him while fidgeting with his fingers, Armie had to admit that he looked cute and as fresh as a newly bloomed rose. He settled his back on the wheelchair and sighed, letting him pull his wheelchair down the aisle and chat his hears away. He was blabbering about the weather and Armie did nothing but nod, smile and yawn here and there as a response. He had a lot of thoughts going around his head, he had a lot of questions for Timothée and he pretended answers, he was tired of that situation where he didn’t know if he was allowed to flirt back or if he should just let it go, let Timothée be Timothée. 

They reached the hospital garden, it was empty and no one was around, not even other patients or nurses. Timothée took him to the open area, a big and green field in the middle of the desert had made Armie chuckle at first, but now he couldn’t imagine spending his days in another place, it was a perfect place for him, quiet and private, he had read almost all of Timothée’s books there, sometimes while sunbathing with a pair of rusty sunglasses on. Timothée stopped once they reached a bench where he could sit down. Armie let his hands fell on his lap, a tiny sigh escaping his lips while he looked at the beautiful sight in front of him. 

They stayed quiet for few minutes, Armie enjoyed the fresh breeze that moved his hair a little wildly and Timothée had his eyes closed with his chin slightly raised, perhaps because he wanted to feel the comforting wind a little better. 

“I’ve been thinking.” Armie said, the silence felt tight on them and it made him squirm in his confined seat. “I’ve been thinking about us. That “later” never came and I want answers, I think I deserve them, don’t you think?” 

Timothée sighed and gripped his knees. “I think so. I think it’s obvious that I like you, but I also think that this is not going to work. I want to keep it to myself, it’ll go away once you leave anyway. I know myself. You’re a great person, an amazing soldier, but I can’t stand the idea of a relationship where you live in the USA and I’m here, stuck in this place just because I can’t find the guts to say that I want to move back to New York.” He popped his lips open, licked his lower one and sighed quietly. “This couldn’t work anyway, I thought about it and it’s not fair to you, to me, fooling around and risking to get caught into something that won’t stand a chance to survive.” 

Armie nodded quietly. “I have few more weeks here, then I’ll go back to Los Angeles.” 

“Exactly. We can’t even if we wanted.” Timothée stated. “You’re older than me, too. I’m just a stupid child who wanted to be a hero, and here you are, injured because you fought a real war while I’m here doing nothing but stitch up stupid boys who thought that war was going to be easy.” 

Armie snorted and shook his head. “Do you want to know why I’m here? I’m here because I wanted to leave LA, because I wanted to give my parents a damn reason to think about me. I’m here because I’m selfish, I signed my death contract when I came here and I was aware of that, I wanted that, to die I mean. I had nothing, I achieved nothing, I thought that fighting someone else’s war was going to fill me with something.” 

“Did it work?” 

“No. I injured other people, I killed other people, but I gained nothing but sorrow.” 

“I see.” Timothée sighed and licked his lower lip, shaking his head while searching the right words. He could only imagine what Armie was going through, he barely knew the feeling of being vulnerable in front of other people, he had always done that but it had never been a big deal for him.  “You still have to change, though. Perhaps going back to LA is the right thing to do, follow your dreams and do something that makes you happy.” 

Armie didn’t answer, the conversation died and Timothée left after few more minutes. The spell had been broken and now Armie craved to go back home, away from that uneasy feeling that made his chest ache whenever he saw Timothée. He had believed that he could have something, even a quick fling, with him, but it didn’t happen and Timothée disappeared gradually from his life, he didn’t know if he should be happy or sad about it. Not seeing him that often made it easier for Armie to sulk over their conversation, but it also made it difficult to avoid thinking about it. 

Armie left the hospital after three more weeks, he wasn’t able to walk but he could stand on and walk on crutches, the doctor said that it was the best thing to leave the hospital and go back to Los Angels, to his “familiar environment”, he would heal faster and better. Armie didn’t protest nor tried to tell him that he’d rather stay there than go back to his life. They contacted a psychiatrist who dealt with soldiers and PTSD, Armie didn’t think he needed it but he didn’t speak up, he had gone back to stay quiet and absorb and suffer others’ decisions. His wishes remained unspoken, shoved deep down into his rusty bag filled with his belongings. 

Timothée stopped by his room the day of his departure, he hanged out with him and chatted like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t left him alone for twenty-one days, visiting him only for an hour or two every day. Armie was sitting on his bed, a large and second-handed tracksuit on and a pair of flip-flops on his feet, he couldn’t wear anything that could lesionate him. Timothée was standing in front of him, his hands were fidgeting and his eyes were all over the room, almost as if he was trying to avoid Armie’s figure, perhaps too guilty, perhaps too sad, to look at him and face the missed opportunities. 

“We could have been together in another lifetime.” Timothée said when the Colonel arrived.

“Yeah, I’ll see you there.” 


	6. Chapter Six

Weeks went by, months went by, a year passed and Armie’s mind was still tormented by his hunting memories. He could smell blood on his hands, he could see all those dead bodies in his dreams, he could mistake the sound of someone popping his mind for a gunshot. His psychiatrist, a lovely lady who had lost her husband in a war, told him that it was okay, that he would get over it one day and everything would go back to normal. He didn’t doubt her, however he didn’t trust her either, she didn’t know the horrors he had seen there, all of those dying young men, killed by other men who fought for someone else, who fought someone else’s war. 

In a year a lot happened. He had managed to find a job, nothing too serious but something fulfilling that made him hate his life a little less. He had managed to convince the army that he could go back to Syria, that he was still able of fighting and that he wanted to, it was the only way he had to avoid pain and traumatizing memories. Going back was the right thing to do, even his parents approved it and, even if they didn’t say it out loud, Armie knew that they had agreed because they didn’t care that much about him, he wasn’t the star of the family, his brother was. 

He had received _the call_ in May, now it was September and it was time to leave again. He had taken a small vacation trip to New York before going back, a last attempt to see life and perhaps find the will to get back from not in a coffin. Armie boarded on the military plane fairly early, he was the first one to step into the cabin and chose his seat, knowing that there wouldn’t be many people around and no one would bother him to switch to his correct and assigned seat. Armie settled down, pulled out a book he had bought at the Duty Free shop and stretched his legs; after a year and all the ointment he had to put on, there were only scars and seldom pain if the weather was about to change drastically. 

Young boys, too young for war, got on the plane and Armie looked at them from his seat, sighing and shaking his head quietly when he saw them laugh and be carefree, that wasn’t going to last forever. He rested his head on the backrest and sighed, rubbing his eyes and licking his lower lip, too tired to even open his book. He tried to push away all the bad thoughts from his mind, all of those memories that made his blood go cold, he wasn’t happy to go back to Syria, but if felt right, it felt good. His psychiatrist had told him that he had made that choice out of instinct, that he was going to regret it, that he was only trying to find Timothée again. 

Timothée. After a year Armie still thought about him, about his gently manners and bright eyes, too pure to see all that pain and desolation. He had fallen and he had fallen hard, he didn’t know why that happened to him, why after a year his name still sent shivers down his spine. That wasn’t supposed to happen, he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a nurse he had met in a hospital. He had tried to fight it, he had tried to hate Timothée and push him away from his mind, from his life, he wasn’t supposed to love him after knowing him for few weeks. 

He had tried to date after coming back from war, he had met few boys- long legs, curly hair and long fingers- but no one interested him. They were all plain and they didn’t have any spark, they never interested him nor made him feel wanted, they only wanted to know about war, to know how many people he had killed, how much blood had spilled because of his actions. He had stopped trying after two months, converting himself to the “hooking up movement”- as he defined it-, digging a hole in his chest that made it impossible for him to feel love.

Armie looked out of the window, they had already left New York and the ocean seemed so far away, there were many clouds in the sky and he couldn’t distinguish where they were, probably half way to Syria. He opened his book and tried to read the first words, to concentrate, but his mind drifted away as soon as he allowed himself to relax, to destress. He had many thoughts circulating through his mind, he felt like he was forcing himself to get back in a dangerous place, which he was doing but he liked to imagine that he was just taking care of his own life. He was scared, scared of what he didn’t know, but when he landed his feet refused to move. 

The camp was like he remembered, it was the same old and dusty tent, the same tired faces that were pondering whether or not they were doing the right thing, faith had left them all a long time ago. Armie unmade his bag, spreading out his clothes on the thin bed and looking around, a pang of guilt settling down in his chest, he was in the wrong place and he had realized that too late. His comrades knew about him, they made him feel like he had been there with them since the beginning, he appreciated it and he made few “friends” immediately. 

The night went by easily, he slept after eating a quick dinner made of rice and peppers, they drank water and chatted about their lives in the States. Armie felt out of place when everyone around him fished out pictures of their wives or girlfriends, apparently he was the only gay man of the whole camp, not that it made a difference. Some of his comrades smoked, some of them chilled with a glass of beer and some of them snored, Armie envied how used they seemed to the thick and hot air that longed over them. 

When Armie woke up he found himself in his tent, the wind had risen during the night and a chilly breeze was making him shiver. A lot had changed in a year, the camp was completely different and even the spirit was different, he was different in so many ways that he was scared of himself. He got up, made his bed and headed out to collect his breakfast, his head was slightly throbbing and he felt dizzy, perhaps it was because of all the emotions he was feeling at once, perhaps it was because he had chosen the wrong path once more. 

He ate without saying anything, his comrades were chatting, checking their wounds and little scratches they had got after a particularly tough day. Armie was bewildered by their simplicity, they seemed to be just bodies without a soul and he wondered if he had been like that, perhaps that was the reason why Timothée and him had no history, just words. Timothée. Since he had arrived he had thought about him, about what he was doing and if he was still in the hospital helping soldiers, making them feel like they were important. If he knew him, which he liked to pretend he did, he was still there. 

The day went by easily, nothing major happened and he passed his hours stocking food into the pantry, checking their first aid kits and their reserve of water. The Syrian army apparently had called a truce for the day, he was glad about it, he was not ready to back out there and kill people, he already had enough blood on his hands, he didn’t need more. Yet, when the other guys asked him to tell them about his previous experience, he admitted that he was not proud of what he had done. Everyone shared their story, why they were there and many seemed to be proud of being soldiers, of fighting that war. 

“I met a guy who was in your old platoon.” A young, way too young, boy said to Armie. “He told me that you were a brave soldier. He asked me to tell you that it had been a pleasure to fight with you. It’s a shame he’s not here, but he retired after the… bombing you both survived.” His voice was thick, rough and raspy, almost as if he was trying to sound older than he was. 

Armie perched up on his chair, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. The guy who helped him get back on his feet after he had been injured was alive and safe, that was the only thing that mattered to him. “Thank you for telling me, I’d like to know his name and his address so that I can send him a postcard or a letter, I never thanked him properly.” 

The soldier nodded and scribbled down on a piece of paper the soldier’s name. Hal Chadwin from Little Rock had saved his life, Armie was now able to thank him and ask him why he hadn’t left him there, why he hadn’t left him die when it was pretty obvious that his life wasn’t as important as his. He pocketed the piece of paper in his breast pocket and stood up, finished his cup of tea and headed back to his bed, his legs were tormenting him that day. 

“Chief!” The guy from before called after him, rushing to his side with an expecting smile. “I heard form the others that you’re still recovering, sir. If I may give you an advice, I’d recommend you to pay a visit to our doctor, sir.” 

“Thank you, I’ll do it tomorrow if my legs still hurt.” He nodded and moved to the tent once more, lying down on his bed. 

Being back there wasn’t as pleasant as Armie had expected it to be. He wanted to go back to LA, he wanted to leave all that sorrow and pain behind him, he wasn’t made for that kind of life and he wasn’t made for fighting and killing other people, he was a gentle soul- as his psychiatrist as said- and he couldn’t fathom the sight of violence. He had nothing against Syrians, he had nothing against a whole damn country, but the USA did and he happened to fight for them, only because he had put himself into that position. It was his fault and he had already accepted it. 

Armie headed to the camp, he had his boots firmly on and his hands were dangling next to his body almost as they were boneless. He stood straight, he looked at his comrades and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, sighing and curling his fingers until his knuckles turned white. Armie’s legs were hurting too much for him to partecipate that day, standing up was already giving him an absurd ache in his back that had made him whine when he had woken up. He had to ask the soldier from the previous day where he could find the camp doctor, he needed some painkillers so that he could go out there and be useful. 

Armie stumbled to the white construction that was near the camp, it took him ten minutes to get there and if his legs hadn’t hurt that much, he would have got there in less than two minutes. The door was closed and he knocked quietly, receiving an answer almost immediately. He smiled at the doctor when he walked in, he sat down on the comfortable and soft chair with a hiss, stretching his right leg in front of him. It was a full on clinic with some hospital beds, oxygen masks and other tools that could help injured soldiers. The beds weren’t all occupied but the majority of them were, a lot of people had stitches or broken bones, from what Armie was seeing he assumed that the doctor treated not so serious cases. 

The doctor was kind and he even managed to make Armie laugh quietly, he examined his healed scars and touched his aching limbs here and there, humming to himself while asking Armie to flax that muscle or relax, bend his legs or keep them straight. He was down to his boxers and he had a navy t-shirt on, he was sweating and when the doctor, Mr. Henn, touched his left calf he swore that his sweat turned cold. Henn said nothing but sighed, shaking his head before telling Armie to sit on the examining bed. 

“Is it serious?” He asked when he laid down, hands on his naked thighs. 

“Well Mr. Hammer, I must say that your decision to get back here is rather dumb. I don’t know how you managed to pass the first medical test but you did, if I were the doctor who examined you, I’d never allow you to come back here. However here you are, you are staying here until you retire or until… until something happens.” Henn cleared his throat and looked at him from above his glasses. “I can give you painkillers and suggest you to visit me whenever you can.” 

Armie nodded and sighed. “It’s not that bad, I think it’s the weather that fucked me over.” He sat up straight and looked at Henn. “Everything’s okay, right?” 

Henn nodded and took off his glasses, placing them on the table. “Yes, your muscles healed completely but your skin is still tender which isn’t good, you could get hurt pretty easily.”

“Hopefully it won’t happen.” Armie muttered. 

Armie started to put on his trousers, he had to proceed carefully and he had to pay attention to every movement he made, Henn rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a blister of pills, giving it to Armie before he left. Armie’s boots were now loose and he headed out of the building, sighing and shoving his hands in his pockets, he now had the proof that he had been a fool. The sun was still high in the sky and Armie turned around, he looked at the facility and locked eyes with a nurse who was spying him from behind a curtain. His heart jumped in his throat and he waved his hand as a greeting, examining those rosy lips part almost as if he had shocked him, Armie nodded and shoved his hand back into his pocket. Timothée waved back.


	7. Chapter Seven

Armie’s days went by without troubles, he took painkillers when his legs gave him troubles and he took care of his health more than usual. He had been staying at the camp more and more, he rarely left to fight and his comrades looked up to him for orders even when he wasn’t with them. At first he had been confused by their behavior, he wasn’t sure why they kept looking up at him when he was nothing but a fraud, a soldier who was there just to feed his own death wish. He spent his days doing nothing but walking around, cursing and looking at his body whenever he spotted a mirror or a reflecting glass.  
In the past months he had become stronger but he was also weaker, he couldn’t do a lot of actions that, before at least, were easy for him. He couldn’t exercise as much as before and because of that he was a little softer around the edges, he couldn’t take his usual morning runs anymore and he couldn’t walk as much as before without feeling his legs send jolts of pain through his whole body, making him whimper like a beaten dog. 

Armie was due to visit Dr. Henn that afternoon, it was going to be a quiet day since the Air Force was arriving and everyone had to prepare their aisle of the base camp, Armie wasn’t thrilled by that like everyone else, he had been there and done that, he didn’t understand why his platoon was so nervous about having them in their own base camp. Armie walked to that improvised hospital which resulted to be quite useful, a lot of his guys had told him that they had been hospitalized more than once but Dr. Henn always managed to get them back on their feet. 

Armie walked through the door and Henn stood up, he shook his hand and then invited him to remove his trousers and sit on the bed, legs stretched in front of him. Armie did as he was told and gritted his teeth when his legs collided with the cold and slightly soft examination bed. Henn reached him and started looking at his legs, touching his skin as tenderly as possible even if Armie kept winching with every single movement the doctor made. 

“Do you take painkillers?” Henn asked. 

“I do.”  
“Good. I think you need to have your muscles massaged.” Henn said with a small sigh, shaking his head. “Don’t move.” 

“Not planning to.” Armie muttered with a sigh, looking at his hands and placing them on his thighs, tapping his fingers nervously. “Not like I can anyway.” He added quietly. 

Minutes passed and nothing happened, Armie grew a little nervous and skittish, he didn’t know what was taking so long but he had to go back to the base and help the newcomers settle in. He curled and uncurled his toes, he tried to flex his calves and his sight blurred slightly, he knew better than that but he still tried, mostly to prove to himself that he could go through his life without problems, without doctors. Armie sighed and closed his eyes for a second, he rubbed his eyes and let his hands drop on his stomach, rubbing it and shaking his head while thinking about his life. 

“Funny how we always meet in hospitals.” 

Armie raised his head and looked at Timothée, he should have known better. Timothée was still beautiful and still charming, after all that time Armie wondered if his feelings ever died down, but they didn’t and now, now that he was standing in front of him he knew for sure that he felt something for him, that was undeniable. He shrugged and looked at his naked legs, he moved his hands on his crotch and shifted on his seat, clearing his throat quietly. 

“Good to see you again.” He murmured, toes twitching. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” 

“I wasn’t expecting to see _you_ here. How come you’re back?” Timothée asked while opening a cabinet and pulling out tube of cream. 

“I had nothing else to do in LA. I managed to get back here and I have to admit that I don’t hate it.” 

“Of course you don’t.” Timothée’s voice sounded harsh and Armie rolled his eyes, closing his eyes.

“Got a problem with that?” 

“Not at all.” 

The conversation died and Timothée approached him, he placed his hands on Armie’s knees and looked at him, he grabbed the tube of cream from the shelf and squeezed a little amount of it in his hand. Armie looked at the ceiling with a sigh and curled his toes lightly, not knowing what to do nor say, suddenly everything seemed meaningless and he didn’t know if he wanted to be there with Timothée or not. He didn’t know if he was attached to his old memories or if he still felt something for him, he was filled with questions but nothing seemed to satisfy his needs. 

“It’s good to see you, by the way.” Timothée murmured quietly, not daring to look at Armie. “After you left… I thought about going back to NY and get a job there, I’m not sure I can do this for the rest of my life.” 

“Then why are you still here?” Armie grumbled. 

“I’m waiting for an answer, actually. I’d like to get a great job in New York and not make my family worry.” He said while rubbing the cool cream on Armie’s left leg. “I just have to know if there’s a free spot for me in an hospital or not.” 

“Good luck with that.” 

“You’re the one who needs to get lucky to get back, not me.” 

Armie rolled his eyes and, once Timothée moved away from him, stood up, grabbed his trousers and put them on, his shaky hands weren’t helping at all and his knees were a little wobbly, almost as if he hadn’t used them in a long time. He stretched his arms and put his boots on, tied them up tightly as he always did and then wiped his hands down on his t-shirt. He had nothing else to say, he had nothing else to do there, perhaps deep down in his heart he hoped for Timothée to stop him and say something else, to grab his arm and yank him closer to himself, hugging him or at least touching him. 

It did not happen. 

Armie left with a sour taste in his mouth and a bad feeling in his guts, he didn’t know why but he felt like he had missed his opportunity to do the right thing. He didn’t think too much about it, he didn’t allow himself to hide in a hole and sulk over Timothée, he was better than that, or at least he thought so. He had things to do, he had stuff to organize, he couldn’t allow his mind to float around while his body tired itself out. The Air Force had arrived and he needed to help the new guys settle down, establish their base camp and get everything sorted out in a tidy way. 

He spent the last hours of sunlight out with the others, they shared a beer or two and Armie managed to not get drunk nor tipsy, he had eaten and chatted with the new guys, he got to know them and he had to admit that they were cool people. Armie bonded quickly with another Californian man, he was older than him and he had been in the Air Force for a long time, he was funny and nice, yet shy and a smart, he was the kind of guy that would have made Armie’s heart beat faster. However in his mind there was only Timothée and he didn’t know if he should hate him or himself. 

Armie got into his bed with a pained whimper, his legs weren’t hurting anymore but his arms were tired and his back was sweaty due to the hard work he had done. He covered his whole body with the think blanket and rested his head on the soft pillow, allowing his mind to wander around without feeling guilty of thinking about something else. He thought about the war he was fighting, he thought about his parents and he thought about his life, about what he had achieved in those past years. With a forced smile he had to admit that he had got nothing out of that situation, out of that life he had chosen for himself. 

He envied Timothée’s determination of leaving that place, he envied his strength and he wondered how he had done it, how he had found the right string to pull to go back to New York. Armie was stuck there once more, this time he had asked for it and he didn’t know if he had done the right thing or not, perhaps not and that was petrifying him. 

The following days went by quietly, silently Armie reached a point where his own mind would detach itself from his body and leave him on autopilot, he was too tired to deal with anything that wasn’t something he looked forward to, he just wanted to go back to his old house in Los Angeles, he wanted to move forward and let go of his career, that wasn’t him and he wasn’t a fan of fighting, of blood. His comrades were as nice as always and the Air Force wasn’t around that much, they came by only around dinner time and they chatted if they had the time. 

Armie had tried to avoid his appointments with Henn for a day or two, his legs though had started to hurt and he had to visit him, sit on the bed and get his muscles massaged by the doctor, apparently Timothée was too busy to take care of him, not that Armie minded. His legs were still concerning him and Henn wasn’t too pleased with all the hard tasks he did, he understood that he was there to fight and keep the American honor high and shiny, but he should keep his health as his first though, Armie did not do that. 

He was getting frustrated as time went by, he couldn’t deal with himself any longer and the more he looked at his future, the more he got tired and skittish. Armie wanted to just go back to his old self, to the young and happy man he had been before he had joined the army. His life hadn’t been pleasurable but, if he had chosen a different path, he would have been a healthier man, with a healthier life and not fucked up mind. He spent many sleepless nights thinking about his future and about what he was going to do once he got back to Los Angeles, once he was forced to retire forever. 

“Henn is not available today, you’re stuck with me.” Timothée said while walking into the examination room, eyes on the ground. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“It’s fine.”  
Timothée settled his things on the desk and went through the procedure without saying a thing, he squeezed Armie’s muscles and he apologized when he hissed in pain, shooting him a deadly glare. He kept his eyes lowered down and he did not dare to ask Armie how he was doing, they had silently agreed on keeping their conversations formal and empty, they were nothing like the one they had shared before, Armie wasn’t going to go back there and fool himself into thinking that him and Timothée could, perhaps, have something that went past a quick thing dictated by the fear of dying too soon and missing opportunities. 

“I’m going back to New York by the end of the month. I’ll be an anesthetists.” Timothée murmured while massaging Armie’s left calf. 

“Good for you, good for you.” Armie looked at him, he looked at the curls on his face and his fingers twitched. “I guess we won’t see each other again, then.” 

“I guess so.” Timothée whispered, his hands gripped Armie’s leg and he turned around, facing him. “Do you mind?” He asked boldly, his voice filled with a kind of courage that Armie had never seen on his face before. 

“Of course I do.” 

“We could…”

“Don’t. It’ll hurt us both.” 

“No, it would not. It would hurt your fucking ego, not mine. We could make it work, even if- even if I’m young and in New York, it could work.” Timothée let go of his leg and looked at him. “Don’t let this be it. Don’t tell me that in these past months you haven’t… haven’t thought about us.” 

Armie sat up straight, his hands in his lap and his eyes on Timothée. “Don’t do this to me, you’re destroying me with this damn conversation. You can’t do this to me, Timothée, you can’t come into my life and then leave. You can’t fool with me like this, you can’t make me believe that we have a chance, you don’t have the right to…”

“To do what?” Timothée spat out.

“To give me a reason to come back alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for going away for few weeks. I saw Twenty One Pilots and I visited Crema and man, was that intense. I had a lot of fun, I saw a lot of cool stuff and I got to visit all the places shown in the movie (tbh the water at the secret spot is fucking freezing, sorry Arms for not believing you). I got a cold and now I'm literally dying and voiceless, which means I have more time to write yay!   
> But anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! See you soon!


	8. Chapter Eight

Armie had never seen the right side of the base camp, he had never went where all the nurses, doctors and helpers lived. It was humble and anonymous, Armie wasn’t even surprised by that considering that they spent the majority of their days working at the local hospital or with Henn. Timothée’s hand was covered in sweat and Armie’s hair was stuck to his forehead, he was nervous too, he had never thought about the possibility of having something with Timothée, the thought had never crossed his mind and he was scared, nervous and confused, he didn’t like the idea of having a quick thing with him, that wasn’t something he needed. 

Timothée had convinced him of going to his modest accommodation, he promised him some hot food and a warm bed, saying that he wasn’t going to miss anything, that they had few days before the next plan. Armie had said yes, his body had ached until he had said yes, until he had allowed Timothée to pull him on his feet and run his hands through his hair. They hadn’t kissed, it hadn’t been the right moment, but Armie knew that he had to do something that night, that he had to make his intentions clear. 

Perhaps they were going to have a whole life in front of them, perhaps Armie was going to die anyway, but knowing that Timothée was still there, still open to the idea of sharing few intimate instants made everything worth it. He wondered if they were going to have sex or if Timothée was in the mood for cuddles and kisses, he wanted to kiss his pouty lips and run his fingers through his curls, pulling him closer until he melted into his own body. He wanted to press his fingers on his perfectly shaped waist and trace every rib, following his touch with his lips, savoring him on his tongue so that he couldn’t forget him, ever. 

“Here we are.” Timothée whispered while opening the thin door that led to his room. 

Armie looked around and saw a stove, few pans, a bed and a closed door where, he supposed, there was the bathroom. Armie took off his cap and Timothée placed his hands on his shoulders, smiling and cupping his face between his hands, his soft thumbs rested under his eyes and Armie smiled, nodding and taking Timothée’s slim wrists in his hands, caressing them and leaving a gentle kiss on the palm of his hand. He didn’t know what to say, he just wanted to keep on touching and keep on being touched, he wanted nothing else and he hoped that Timothée knew it. 

“I’ll cook us some rice, chicken, eggs and vegetables, something fulfilling for our soldier.” Timothée joked while brushing Armie’s hair out of his face. “I also have some amazing cake I’m willing to share.”

“What a sweet creature you are.” Armie murmured while pressing a kiss to Timothée’s head. 

“Go shower, you’re covered in dust.”

“When am I not?” 

Armie left for fifteen minutes, taking his time in the tiny and rusty shower. Timothée in the meantime cooked their dinner, he tried his best to make something edible with spices, oil, sauce and everything that he thought would suit their meal. He ended up making curry rice with chicken, eggs, peas and green beans, everything accompanied with a side avocado salad, he didn’t want to risk to leave Armie underfed. He settled the table, poured some water in their glasses wishing it was wine and filled their plates, his stomach grumbled and he looked at the closed bathroom door. 

Timothée didn’t really know why he had invited Armie over, he didn’t know if he had done it because he wanted to keep him by his side a little longer, if he wanted to finally act out and have him all for himself, he only knew that he wanted to have Armie at least once before he had to leave. He heard the door open and close, Armie reappeared from the tiny room and Timothée licked his lower lip, staring shamelessly at his glistening arms, at his slim yet strong legs, he wondered how Armie could be so handsome without even trying. He had been lucky to find him in that hell of a place, he had been stupid when he had let him go, pushed him away without caring about each other’s feelings. 

“Smells like heaven in here.” Armie said once he reached the table, he sat down and looked at Timothée with a small smile. “You didn’t have to make all of this, I would have been fine with grilled chicken and tomatoes.” 

“Who the fuck eats only that for dinner? You have to stay strong.” Timothée snorted and dived in his food, cutting his chicken in smaller pieces and mixing it with a spoonful of avocado salad. “So, how are you doing here?” 

Armie shrugged and took a forkful of rice and egg. “I’m doing okay, leg pains and all. I’m sure I’ll go back to LA around Christmas I think, they said it’ll be my last chance to think about retiring.” 

“Are you considering that?” 

Armie sighed and looked down at his plate, he licked his lower lip and nodded. “I don’t know yet, I’ll see once I reach December.” He took a sip of water and fixed his eyes on Timothée. “What about you? You’re going back to New York soon, aren’t you?”

Timothée nodded and put down his fork, licking his lower lip. “Yeah well, that’s the plan. My family is worried about me, my sister will probably move to Paris by the end of the year and my parents… they can’t live knowing that I’m down here. They need at least one child within thirty miles from their house, you know.” 

Armie sighed and nodded. “I don’t, no. I don’t know the feeling.” Timothée parted his lips and looked at Armie with a frown, perhaps trying to look for the right words. “Don’t, it’s fine.” 

Timothée licked his lower lip and nodded, going back to his food with a small sigh. They didn’t say anything else, Armie kept on eating while Timothée looked at him and took small bites out of a piece of bread, they didn’t know what to say and suddenly Armie was too self-conscious about himself. He stiffened up and Timothée noticed his tense shoulders, his straight jawline and his rigid shoulders, he licked his lower lip and moved his right foot under the table, placing it on top of Armie’s. 

He moved his toes over his soft calf, he touched and prodded every inch of skin he could reach, enjoying the redness on Armie’s neck and ears. “Do you want to have dessert on the couch?” Armie nodded and Timothée smiled. “Can’t wait.” He murmured quietly. 

Armie licked his lower lip and finished his food rather quickly, stuffing his mouth with it while chomping on his piece of bread, Timothée had never seen him so excited about something and, deep down in his chest, he was proud to be the reason behind that excitement. He rested his foot on Armie’s thigh, the heel of his foot was resting close to his crotch, his toes poked his stomach and Armie moved his hand down on his ankle, massaging it slowly while keeping on eating. It felt intimate, it felt like they were sharing a common night of their common lives, if Armie closed his eyes he could picture them in an apartment in the USA, sharing anecdotes about their days. 

Timothée washed the dishes once they finished all the food on the table, Armie asked to help him but he received a small and soft laugh in return, he shook his head and shoved him out of the way, almost pleading him to go and chill on the couch. They shared small talks, Armie listened to Timothée’s complaints about the other nurses and patients, his eyes closed and his head thrown back. Armie only opened his eyes when he felt the couch dip beside him, he turned his head and looked at the celestial figure next to him, messy curls all over the place and flushed lips, the tip of his rosy tongue barely visible. 

“Can I kiss you?” Timothée whispered, his hands on his shoulders and his lips close to his ear. 

“Yes.” 

Armie cradled his face between his palms- which, for once, weren’t sweaty- and brushed the tip of his nose on Timothée’s, smiling at him before capturing those red lips with his own. Timothée’s shoulders slumped down and his arms wrapped around Armie’s neck, dragging him closer with a pained whimper. It felt like a goodbye kiss and Armie’s chest ached, his mind started buzzing and he ended up pressing Timothée down on the couch, kissing him like he was about to disappear. Things escalated and they made love like a steady couple, almost as if they already knew each other’s bodies, worshipping everything they touched by kissing it, licking and biting the soft flesh. They held each other, arms wrapped tightly around their trembling limbs, too spent to move to Timothée’s room and get under the comforter. 

They didn’t talk, Armie only kissed Timothée’s face and pressed his hands on his stomach, pinning him down until Timothée gave up and allowed him to carrying him to his room. There was an unspoken agreement between them, Armie took care of Timothée now that he could, now that they were both there and not away from each other. Timothée fussed about his legs, about his shoulder, he tried to persuade him with allusive looks, but Armie was determined to hold him in his arms, carry him around like he was a doll. 

Lying in bed was always amazing, it was a soothing moment where our bodies can relax and detox from all the stress we absorb during the day. Lying in bed with someone is even better, Armie realized it as soon as Timothée cuddled up next to him, his head on his chest and his right hand over his left pectoral. They listened to the wind blowing outside, Armie had his fingers were tangled into Timothée’s curls and his eyes were closed, he smiled at the soft sounds Timothée made and at how tightly he gripped his skin when he tried to sit up. 

“Why do you always have to fuck up my plans?” Timothée murmured with his eyes closed, his nose tucked under Armie’s chin. Armie parted his lips to answer but Timothée rolled on top of him, knocking the air out of his lungs. “Why can’t you just… retire? Say that your damn health is not getting better.” 

“Because… listen Timmy, I just can’t ditch everything, I have to make sure that everything I do is taken care of, that I complete at least this mission, it’ll be my last one anyway.” Armie said while caressing his hair softly. “You need to understand that, please.” 

Timothée nodded and looked at him, kissing his lips softly before sliding his hands across his chest. “I’ll miss you, will you miss me too?” Armie nodded, speechless. “We lost so much time…” 

“We’ll make up for it once I get back to the States.” 

“You _have_ to come back, okay?” Armie sighed and nodded quietly, caressing Timothée’s back. “And you’ll move to New York, you’ll come and stay in my shitty apartment that’s too small.” Armie laughed quietly and closed his eyes, humming with a small smile on his lips. “I’ll make your breakfast every morning and you’ll make dinner, you’ll pick me up from the hospital when I have a stressful day and massage my feet.” 

“Are you planning our life together after our first night together, Tim?” Armie said with a tiny smile on his lips, kissing the tip of Timothée’s nose. Timothée shrugged and kissed his chest softly, smiling at him. “I don’t mind.” 

“Yeah, you better not. I’ve spent too many days dreaming about this moment.”

Armie smiled and nodded before looking at him, lying down while caressing his chest slowly, his fingers tracing his ribs and his sternum. He knew how Timothée felt, he knew what he had been through and he sympathized with him, he connected with him. He tugged him closer and kissed his forehead, settling down next to him and touching him, unable to let go. He felt at peace, his mind wasn’t buzzing for once and his body was relaxed, he was happy and he didn’t feel like his heart was about to jump out of his body. 

“It’ll hurt once you leave, Tim.” 

Timothée sighed and shook his head. “I know, but if we just plan everything, if we plan out future, perhaps it’ll become real. It’s silly, I know.” 

“You’re bounding me to you, aren’t you?” Armie asked playfully, receiving an affirming nod as an answer. “That’s okay, I can live with that.”

For once, perhaps for the first time ever, Armie felt the need to get out of that situation alive, to go back to the States on his own feet and not in a coffin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I'm the worst. BUT, I'm writing a new fic at the moment and I promise that I'll come back as a new person, in a healthier state of mind and with better plots. Thank you for being so patient with me. You guys are so great, I don't deserve you and all the support you give me!   
> Anyway, if you have requests, prompts, things you'd like me to write about, feel free to comment here or message me on Tumblr!


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